


Rebuilding

by TheIcyQueen



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Gen, No Spoilers, Pre-Kingdom Hearts III, Prompt Fill, Tumblr Prompt, not exactly canon compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-08
Updated: 2019-02-08
Packaged: 2019-10-24 14:06:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17705672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheIcyQueen/pseuds/TheIcyQueen
Summary: Radiant Garden falling was their doing. So it only stood to reason that its revival would fall to them, as well.





	Rebuilding

**Author's Note:**

> A prompt fill for riddlemostpowerful on tumblr! Again, written WAY before KH3 came out, so bear that in mind, please ;)

“We are the only ones who can save this place…and you _know it_.”

Silence rose around them like a tide, ebbing and cresting and foaming up into something heady. The table they sat at had once seemed so much smaller, the room so much bigger; but of course, last time there had been more of them, last time there had been bright daylight filtering through the windows. 

Among them, Aeleus was the only one with eyes raised. He had long since accepted the gravity of their situation, much to the surprise of none. Aeleus was always the first among them: The first to wake, the first to apologize, the first to start the healing process. This was no different, albeit more unpleasant. He watched as the others seemed to deflate before him, tired minds processing the implication like chilled molasses. 

“We don’t _fix things_.” It was Ienzo’s voice that came next, even less of a surprise. It was coarse and hoarse and only vaguely his own, drained of its color by sickness and insomnia. There were shadows under his eyes and in the pits of his cheeks, giving a sickly contrast to the pallor of his skin. “Maybe you hit your head when you woke up. Maybe you don’t remember. _Us?_ We cut…we pierce…we rend…we _destroy_.” His eyes flicked from Even, to Dilan, to his own pallid hands, finally raising back up to Aeleus’s. 

Aeleus had expected the look to be petulant, at best; so he had been caught entirely off guard by what he actually saw. 

Resignation. 

“The boy’s right,” Even piped in, and it was strange…he shirked the usual affectation of tired frustration he typically tacked on to such a statement. Stranger still, Ienzo made no move to rebuke him on his age. “And let’s say he wasn’t. Let’s say, for the sake of discussion, that we _had_ the capability to do…well, much of _anything_ …even then, do you think _They_ would welcome it?” _  
_

_They_. In their short time awake, the word had taken on proper pronoun status, carrying the same heft as any of their names. Usually it was accompanied by a vague gesture, an arm flung out to the side, a curt nod towards a window, a distantly pointing finger. _They_. The ones outside the Castle, the faces that had once been familiar but were no longer. The residents of their home.

“They don’t even want to acknowledge our _existence_.” And now there _was_ a sharpness to the scientist’s tone. “They’d prefer we just sit in here and rot in our own filth. Decaying like this damned ruin around us.” His nights had been sleepless, too, Aeleus thought, if the redness of his eyes gave any sign. His reasons were probably different than Ienzo’s–less to do with nightmares and more with physical inability. There was a dark tint to his lips, ears, fingers, and they all knew enough to recognize the frostbite for what it was. “But by _all means_ , let’s. Let’s throw ourselves into it, with gusto.” He let his head drop into his hands, fingers tangling in the pale length of his hair. “I’ve always wanted to examine the dynamics of an angry mob up _in vivo_.”

The silence fell again, lapping at the legs of the table, threatening to drown the lot of them. It was only Dilan who hadn’t spoken–again, to no surprise–keeping his eyes downcast and his mouth tightly shut. His fingers tapped rhythmically against the table, each click louder, firmer than the last. Aeleus moved his gaze to him as the air in the room seemed to shudder and retract. They all had their tells, the minute shifts that telegraphed their intentions, and of them all, he thought he was most familiar with this one. 

“And that’s why we have to do it.” The front of his face had been rubbed raw and red with windburn, and had it not been for the tone of his voice, they might’ve mistaken the color for choler. He made no move to lift his eyes, but continued to stare down at his own hands. “When they trusted us, we massacred them. We betrayed them and left them for dead. It shouldn’t be a surprise–much less _an offense_ –that they despise us, now.” Dilan paused suddenly, as though the effort of using his voice had exhausted him unexpectedly. There was probably a grain of truth to that, but he seemed to collect his thoughts after a moment. “So now it falls to us to help them rebuild.”

In unison, Even and Ienzo scoffed, appearing more familial than any of them were comfortable admitting. “ _Why?”_ Ienzo asked, the rasp in his voice now sounding painful. “So we can _prove ourselves?_ So that we can serve some sort of penitence in the public eye? Lift ourselves back to our former glory?” His expression was sardonic, bordering on cruel, but Aeleus had known him long enough to recognize the fear behind the feint. 

“No,” Dilan answered simply, the gruffness of his voice quieting Ienzo immediately. “Because it’s the right thing to do.” He _did_ lift his gaze, then, to Aeleus. “And we _all_ have some catching up to do in that regard, I think.”

 


End file.
